


One Templar and a Warden

by whereismywarden (PearOh)



Series: Dragon Age - Warden Ana Surana - Sad Mages Worldstate [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Circle of Magi, Gen, Mages (Dragon Age), Minor appearances from other DA2 NPCs, Regret, Reunions, Templars (Dragon Age), The Gallows (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26007520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearOh/pseuds/whereismywarden
Summary: Twenty-one years after he took her to the Chantry as a baby, Samson is reunited with Surana, now the Hero of Ferelden, when she returns to the Gallows looking for answers about her past.
Relationships: Raleigh Samson & Female Surana
Series: Dragon Age - Warden Ana Surana - Sad Mages Worldstate [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1475330
Kudos: 6
Collections: Sad Mages Worldstate





	One Templar and a Warden

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel of sorts to [One Templar and a Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16256669). It's referenced multiple times in this story so I recommend you read it first (you don't have to, but you'll probably enjoy this fic more if you do).
> 
> This fic is going to have at least a couple of extra chapters, although I don't know yet when I'll be able to upload them.

Cullen was jumpy today. Well, Cullen was jumpy _every_ day of the week _,_ Samson had noticed, but it seemed worse today. The lad had been transferred to the Gallows a couple of months ago and Samson had only heard rumours of what had transpired in Ferelden — bleak tales of blood magic and abominations. He wasn't sure whether to believe half the stuff he'd heard about Ferelden or the Blight, but he'd heard Cullen tossing in his sleep, restlessly fumbling on his bunk like he was fighting some invisible creature before waking up in cold sweat. Samson had suggested the lad start taking his regular dose of lyrium before bed instead of in the morning like he usually did. Cullen had argued that it would be a waste of lyrium, as their abilities were more effective when the intake was more recent. Samson had countered that templars were more effective when they weren't sleep-deprived and that his nightmares were also keeping _him_ awake at night. Cullen had eventually conceited, for both their sakes.

It wasn't until he saw the woman step out of Knight-Commander Meredith's office that Samson understood why the poor boy was so nervous. She was clad in a heavy grey warden armour that should have made her look small given her petite stature were it not for the sheer amount of presence that radiated from her. Meredith herself appeared insignificant next to her. The young woman's brow was set into a deep frown, her mouth a thin line, and Maker, she looked so much like her mother in that instant that Samson almost forgot how to breathe.

“You two,” Meredith barked. “Escort Warden-Commander Surana out of here.”

“I can find my own way out,” she protested.

“I will not have a mage known to consort with maleficarum loose in my Circle.”

Surana rolled her eyes in an expression of contempt that could only make Meredith’s blood boil. Yup, she was most definitely Violette’s kid.

“Right away, Knight-Commander,” Cullen managed to say dutifully, his voice surprisingly steady considering how much he was sweating.

Surana's eyes landed on him. She stared him up and down in disapproval, which only served to make him fidget harder until she looked away from him and to Samson. Those grey eyes bore into him like silverite daggers. Her mother's eyes.

He swallowed hard. “This way, if you would, Warden-Commander.”

For a second, she looked like she was about to protest again. She appeared to think better of it, however and motioned for him to lead the way.

They walked through the Gallows in silence, the tension between them so heavy it could probably sink a Qunari dreadnought. Cullen was purposefully trying to avoid so much as throwing a glance in the Warden's general direction, while Samson couldn't seem to be able to take his eyes away from her.

He remembered the baby he'd taken to the Chantry. He remembered her being so tiny in his arms. He remembered a sickly child who wouldn't take the nurse's milk. _“She won't live long,”_ the sisters had told him then. Who'd have thought she would grow up to become one of the most powerful mages in all of Thedas? _Shows what these Chantry idiots know._

Because of her poor health, they had kept her in Kirkwall for an entire year before shipping her off to Ferelden, a lot longer than the usual protocol allowed. At some point, there had even been talks of letting her grow up in Kirkwall’s orphanage, but rules were rules and the Chantry always made sure to keep families separated, which meant that children born of mages couldn’t remain in the same nation as their parents. What a load of horseshit. Her mother had run off shortly after she'd been born anyway.

Samson had visited the Chantry orphanage every chance he'd gotten. _“It's not right,”_ the sisters would say, but they would let him see her anyway, if only because he'd been one of the rare people who could quiet the poor kid's wailing for more than a minute. The exhausted wetnurse had certainly appreciated his visits a lot more than those stuck up priestesses, that was for sure. And she'd been _very_ thankful. He wondered what she was up to these days.

Then, one day, the baby had been gone, shipped across the Waking Sea to Highever. Samson had gone back to his routine, thinking he'd never see her again — _hoping_ he'd never see her brought to the Circle in chains. It wouldn't have happened, of course — she wouldn’t have been brought to Kirkwall — but the thought had haunted him for years nonetheless.

Surana came to a halt in the main hall where the mages sometimes gathered to discuss their studies. She’d stopped so suddenly that Cullen almost slammed into her. She gasped, her eyes going wide as she stared at something in the distance.

“This man…” she whispered. “I know him.”

Samson frowned and followed her gaze to a tall, lean man sitting in a corner with a book on his lap. “Thekla? He's been with us for a long time.”

“Karl… Can I talk to him?” She looked up at Samson, her eyes shining with hope.

“Absolutely not!” Cullen interfered.

“Sure,” Samson said almost at the same time.

Surana beamed, completely ignoring Cullen's objection. She trotted to the mage like a child after a puppy. She looked so young all of a sudden, without her stern facade and rigid posture. Samson quickly did the maths. Twenty-one. It had been twenty-one years since he had taken that baby to the Chantry. She was so young, yet she bore the burden of command like any veteran soldier — which she _was_ , Samson had to remind himself. She had fought against the Blight and won. She had killed a freaking Archdemon, for Maker's sake.

“Ana?” The mage looked confused for a moment before a smile broke out across his face. “Maker, look at you! All grown up! You're making me feel old.”

“Those grey streaks in your hair are what make you look old, grampa.”

He laughed heartily and wrapped his arms around her as tightly as her armour would allow. Taking a step back, he examined her from head to toe. Samson observed the scene in silence, his heart tightening in his chest. The two of them seemed like close friends, but Thekla had been brought to Kirkwall almost ten years ago. Surana had to have been a very young girl at the time, and the separation had likely been incredibly difficult for her.

The mage's eyes landed on the griffon insignia that adorned her chest. “Grey Warden, huh? I always knew you would amount to something great one of these days.”

“I take it you haven't heard, then?”

“All right, that's enough of that,” Cullen intervened. “I'm sure you've got a lot of important Grey Warden things to do back where you came from.”

She shot him an angry look, the kind of glare that probably made the darkspawn soil themselves. Samson had never seen or heard of Cullen being particularly rough with the mages, but she looked at him like he was Maferath himself. She saw his protests for what they were: a clumsy attempt to stop the news of her victory over the Blight from spreading. Meredith was trying her darndest to make sure the mages in the Circle had no heroic figure to look up to, so much so that she’d forbidden even the templars from speaking of the fabled Hero of Ferelden. It had worked so far, but soon enough a new apprentice would be brought to the Gallows with Surana’s name on their lips, Samson was sure of it.

For once, Cullen didn't flinch under the weight of her glare. He stood his ground and stared right back at her. The tension was palpable. The mages around them were starting to retreat for fear that they might get stuck in the middle of an all-out showdown if things were to escalate.

Samson was about to step in when he heard a stern voice boom from across the room. “What is going on here?”

“First Enchanter, this is Warden-Commander Surana,” he replied quickly, grateful for the elf's timely intervention. “We were just escorting her out.” 

“I should go too,” Thekla said, bending down to place a gentle kiss on top of the girl's head. “It was nice seeing you again, kitten.”

Surana turned her attention toward the First Enchanter who looked about as stunned as Samson had felt when he'd first laid eyes on the Warden. The old mage probably saw in her the same thing he did: a spark of Violette's fire burning behind the young girl’s silver eyes. As far as Samson could tell, Violette and Orsino had never liked each other much — Violette had seldom liked _anyone_ — but she’d been a memorable woman.

“First Enchanter,” she addressed him, much to Cullen's horror. “If I may have a moment of your time before I go.”

“You’ve done enough meddling already,” the lad grumbled, grabbing her by the arm to lead her away from the other mages.

For a second, Samson half expected her to lash out against him, as Violette certainly would have done, but commonsense seemed to win out. She pulled herself free from his grip and, after giving the First Enchanter one last wistful look, let the two templars lead her to the exit.

They stepped out of the fortress and into the courtyard, cooled by the fresh breeze of the Waking Sea. Cullen stopped at the top of the stairs and watched Surana walk away without another word, but Samson followed her across the courtyard.

“I don't need you to escort me all the way back to Ferelden, you know,” she told him through gritted teeth.

He shrugged. “I've got business in the city.”

It was only half true. He _had_ been asked to track down a group of lyrium smugglers, but a small part of him also wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to become better acquainted with her, he _needed_ to make sure she was all right. He owed her that much consideration after he’d taken her from her mother in the name of the Chantry.

They hopped onto the ferry and Samson wondered for a brief moment if the ferryman was the same man who had taken them across the harbour when he'd brought her to the Chantry twenty odd years ago. Probably not, but he certainly looked the right age.

Surana was staring into the distance, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, likely ready to strike him at the first sign of aggression. Samson figured he probably couldn’t even take her out with a well-timed smite if he wanted to. She was the bloody Hero of Ferelden, after all, and they might both fall overboard and sink to the bottom of the harbour really fast if he did try it.

She caught him watching her and scowled at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, looking away. “Didn't mean to stare.”

“I'm used to it,” she answered flatly.

“Doesn't mean it's right.”

It was her turn to eye him up with curiosity. It was a bit unsettling, coming from a Circle mage. They usually kept their heads down around templars, hoping to remain unnoticed. But she wasn't a Circle mage anymore, was she? She was a grey warden and a hero. She could do whatever she damn well pleased.

Except get past Meredith's unyielding stubbornness, it would seem.

“If you don't mind me asking, Warden-Commander. Why did you come to Kirkwall? To the Gallows?”

He knew the answer already — there was only one possible answer to that question, but he had to hear it.

She sighed deeply. “I was looking for my parents. My mother, more specifically. Her name was in my Chantry file and—” She cut herself short, shaking her head in resignation. “It doesn't matter. She's gone. Apparently, she escaped a few months after I was born.”

Samson moved closer to her. “Violette Surana,” he sighed.

“Did you know her?”

Oh, he knew her, all right. “Yes, a little. She was a feisty woman. She never let anyone get in her way, not even the Templars. Most mages, they're scared of us, but Violette? She wasn't scared of _anything_. She once kicked a man twice her size in the balls because he'd insulted her. And he hadn't even done it on purpose!" He smiled sadly at the memory. She'd been a strong woman, but he doubted even she could have survived Meredith’s reign of terror. The Knight-Commander would have made an example out of her a long time ago. Maybe it had been for the best that she’d escaped when she had. 

“You make her sound like a nightmare, yet you speak of her quite fondly.”

He let out a brief laugh. “She wasn't so bad. I heard she once got so drunk during a social event that she puked on Meredith. I wish I’d been there to see it, but I wasn’t a full-fledged templar yet at the time.”

Surana threw her head back in laughter. “I did something like that too once,” she recalled, “except it was chocolate cake instead of alcohol because I was ten. I was, erm—” She paused, considering whether or not it was wise for her to continue. “I was trying to create a distraction to help a friend escape from the Tower.”

Samson arched an eyebrow, amused by her confession. “You didn’t want to go with them.”

“I couldn’t swim, and in case you weren’t aware, Ferelden’s Circle is housed in the middle of a lake.”

It made sense. The Chantry wanted to keep mages as isolated from the rest of the world as possible. Most Circles had been built in secluded areas, on islands, or on city outskirts. The Gallows themselves were in the middle of the harbour. As far as Samson could tell, it did a poor job at dissuading mages from running away.

“Meredith hated your mother," he said after a while. "Frankly, I’m not surprised the bitch wanted you out of her sight as fast as possible.”

“You don't like your Commander much, do you?”

He shrugged. His lack of respect for his superior officer was likely to cause him trouble someday, but it wasn't like Surana was going to be the one to snitch on him.

“I'm part of the old guard. I remember how things used to be before she came into power. I'm not going to say it was good, but it was better. This, whatever Meredith's doing, it's wrong. And I'm old enough by now to recognise when something's fucked up.”

A flicker of light passed through her eyes, a strange mix of emotions he wasn't sure he could pinpoint. Curiosity, maybe. His answers intrigued her and he couldn't blame her. They weren't the kind of talk a mage could expect from a templar.

And behind that was something that looked a lot like worry. Not for him, of course. Why would she worry about him? No, it was for the mage, most likely. Who else did she know in the Gallows?

“What's your name?” she finally asked him as the ferry started to approach Kirkwall's docks.

“Samson.”

“I see.” She looked at him curiously, as if she recognised the name. Maybe her mother's hadn't been the only one she’d found in her file. “Would you like to share a drink with me, Ser Samson? I would very much like to hear more tales of my mother if you have any.”

He froze, the offer taking him by surprise.

“Don't worry, I'm not in the habit of skewering people without reason,” she told him with a warm smile as the ferryman started to manoeuvre the boat into a docking position. “Even Templars,” she added for good measure. “But don’t let me keep you if you have important duties to perform.”

He smiled back. “Meredith can get fucked for all I care. It won't be the first time she has to wait a bit longer to get what she wants.” And it wouldn’t be the first time he lied to her about his whereabouts. “Come, I know a decent place,” he said with fondness, extending a hand to help her out of the boat.


End file.
